


As you do

by Phoenixtcm



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Figure skater Laurent, Hockey player Damen, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixtcm/pseuds/Phoenixtcm
Summary: Laurent is not amused when he finds that the men's hockey team has taken his time slot for the ice rink.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should really be writing more for y'know my other unfinished fanfics but I was inspired ok.

Laurent had had an awful day. He had gotten 60% on a midterm despite understanding the material perfectly. Some _dick_ had bumped into his arm in the library, causing him to draw a jagged line through a page of his perfect and pristine notes. And, now, he had just walked into the rink which he had booked _at the start of the semester_ to find that it was already occupied by the men’s hockey team.

One of the hockey players skated over after spotting him. He leant over the barrier around the rink and pulled off his helmet. His hair positively _bounced_ out. He was attractive too, and that just made Laurent even more angry.

“Are you lost?”

Laurent contemplated murder. “No, you imbicile. What I would like to know is why you oafs are on the ice during what is clearly _my_ time slot.”

The hockey player’s smile stiffened. “Ah.”

“My explanation, if you will.” Laurent smoothed his hand through his hair.

“The team got into the championships so we decided to increase practice time. I talked to the university and they agreed, so we had to shuffle around some time slots to make it all work out. You should have gotten an email a couple of days ago about it.”

“Oh so this is a classic case of the university bending backwards for you brainless packs of muscle but the arts getting neglected? As per usual?” Laurent’s eyes narrowed.

The rest of the team had skated over in the meantime and were clustered around Damen at the edge of the rink.

“And what does it matter for you?” Another hockey player joined in.

Laurent adjusted his bag, slung across his shoulder. “Because,” he said, with the tone of voice usually reserved for speaking for a particularly whiney toddler, “as a world-level figure skater, I need to practice. To stay. A. World-level. Figure-skater. I need the rink.”

“Don’t you just have to learn the spins and whatnot and just string them together? Just do that in the smaller rink.” The second hockey player added. He crossed his arms. “We’re not sharing the rink with you. We can’t do proper matches with half a rink.”

“Nikandros— ” The first hockey player started but Laurent cut him off.

“My mistake. I wouldn’t expect a bunch of muscleheads to understand what _true_ art really means,” Laurent directed at Nikandros, his tone icy. “All brawn and no brains. Skating by with a hockey scholarship and majoring in Sports Studies no doubt. When was the last time you lot touched a textbook except to move it out of the way?”

“Excuse Nikandros,” the first player cut in, “but can’t you just practice in the smaller rink today? Those twirl things really don’t take up much room, right? I’ll talk to the people in charge of the rink to make sure the mix-up doesn’t happen again.”

“What I want,” Laurent said, “is for your head on a stick. Failing that, I’ll settle for my rink and my time slot back.”

“Hey Damen! Why are you even humouring this bitch anyway?!” One of the other players butted in to nods and voiced agreements from the others.

The hockey player named Damen sighed. “Look. We already set up and everything so we can’t give you the ice. Just,” he made an aborted hand motion, “cut your losses for today and book another time slot, ok?”

“Yeah,” the third hockey player from before added, “Stop being a fucking drama queen. It’s not like figure skating is that hard. You just do pretty princess twirls anyway.” One of the team members cheered and clapped him on the back.

Laurent gritted his teeth. “And I suppose,” he started, “that you would know exactly what it’s like to maintain a 4.0 gpa in medical school while skating for at least 3 hours a day, right? And I suppose you all know what it’s like to fall so many times when first learning a ‘pretty princess twirl’ that you had to get driven to the hospital because you _couldn’t move your leg?_ Not to mention the sprained ankles and wrist fractures and muscle tears but, of course not. It’s _easy_ to be a figure skater. My fucking mistake.”

“Look,” Damen snapped, “I’m sorry we’re taking up your time slot but we got express permission and it’s not like we can just give it back to you anyway. There’s no reason to be a dick, _your majesty_.”

“Fine. You can have the goddamn rink,” Laurent bit out. He straightened his glasses and turned to walk out but couldn’t help himself from getting the last word. “It makes sense that you would know all about dicks given that yours is entirely in your personality.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah ok so I've only really written fics for Harry Potter and this is my first foray into Captive Prince fanfic. The response to this fic has been great?? I didn't expect so many comments and kudos on the first chapter compared to what I usually get because, after all, Harry Potter is a bigger fandom than CP. But, nope, the response to this fic way exceeded my expectations. Thank you for the lovely comments! You all are great <3 
> 
> Here's some good ol' Laurent & Nicaise bonding bc they deserve to be happy

“The fucking nerve of them,” Laurent muttered for the upteenth time.

“Mhm,” Nicaise hummed, his head pillowed on his arms, “I know.”

“Pretty princess fucking twirls my goddamn ass,” Laurent continued, leaning back in his chair and gesturing with his hands. “They have no idea how difficult figure skating actually is. No appreciation for the arts. No, their job is just to skate around and hit things with a stick.”

“I know, Laurent.”

“It’s definitely a compensating thing,” Laurent muttered. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Instead of just pulling out a goddamn tape measure they just–” Laurent made an exasperated sound. “Who cares about the size of one stick when you have a longer one you use to hit things with. You could practically _smell_ the testosterone in the air. ‘ _Oooooh my muscles are bigger than your muscles.’ ‘My jawline is so square they could use it as a trigonometric instrument.’ ‘I can bench press the goddamn **sun**_.’”

“You’re awfully obsessed with dicks,” Nicaise said, looking up at Laurent. He pushed his sunglasses onto his forehead and squinted at the harsh library lights. “Not getting any, lately?”

Laurent narrowed his eyes. “You know what? I came out here to have a good time and I’m feeling awfully attacked right now.”

“Please stop quoting memes, Laurent,” Nicaise said with a wrinkle of his nose. He rested his head on the table, pillowed in his arms, and closed his eyes. “I’m too hungover for this.”

“Tough luck, babe. Nobody forced you to take all those shots last night.”

Nicaise let out a soft whine. “Just let me die already.”

Laurent chuckled.

Nicaise let out a second high-pitched whine. “Everything hurts. My _brain_ hurts. I need my brain for studying and it _hurts_. And you’re _here_ and _talking_ and that makes it hurt _even more_.”

“Awww poor baby,” Laurent cooed, in the tone of voice usually reserved for baby animals. “Was Erasmus not impressed?”

“First of all, you have no proof that I did those shots to show off for Erasmus.”

Laurent smirked, “That was all the proof I needed, honestly.”

Nicaise paused. “You know what? Kindly fuck off and take your Alvin and the Chipmunks voice with you.”

Laurent slapped a hand on his heart and reeled back as if he had been shot. “Nicaise! Does over 10 years of friendship mean nothing to you? I’m _appalled_ and _offended_. What of the times I stayed up late to help you study? What about our _brotherly bond?_ ”

“I’m going to brotherly bond my fist with your ass if you don’t shut the hell up,” Nicaise, ever-suffering, muttered.

Laurent paused and a slow grin spread across his face.

Nicaise realised what he said. “Laurent you know what I mean–”

“Oh Nicaise!” Laurent said, his voice high and purposefully shrill. “I had no idea you were into those things! If that’s how you feel about me, I’m sure we could make things work~”

“I am going to murder you and send the body to Auguste in little tiny pieces,” Nicaise grumbled.

Laurent wiggled his eyebrows. “If we’re doing things like _that_ , I’m going to need a safeword.”

“Take your weird kinks and move them far far away from me.”

“Don’t you mean _your_ weird kinks, my favourite younger brother?”

“I’m your only younger brother.”

Laurent pulled Nicaise close and managed to tuck the younger boy’s head under his chin despite Nicaise’s squirms and complaints. “You are my favourite younger brother,” He said solemnly.

Nicaise had resigned himself to being cuddled unwillingly. “On days like this, I’m glad I’m adopted so I don’t have to share any DNA with you,” Nicaise grumbled from under Laurent.

“Awww,” Laurent cooed, “but you forget that humans share, like, 99.9% of our DNA with each other. So, we’re still _super_ closely related anyway.”

“Urg,” said Nicaise, “med students.”

“Urg,” Laurent parroted back in the exact same tone of voice, “law students.” He ruffled Nicaise’s hair as he tried to squirm away.

Nicaise finally succeeded in extracting himself from Laurent’s grasp.  “I spent a lot of time on that!”

Laurent blew him a kiss.

Nicaise rolled his eyes.

“Where did you get the energy to do your hair if you’re hungover?” Laurent rested his chin on his hand and looked over at Nicaise.

Nicaise took out his phone and used the front-facing camera to finger-comb his hair back to normal.“Being hungover,” He said haughtily, “does not give you an excuse to look like trash.”

“So what _is_ your excuse, then?” Laurent grinned.

Nicaise swatted Laurent with a textbook.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’d planned for Damen and Laurent to start out disliking each other but somehow this turned into a Damen pining for Laurent fic because I'm incapable of writing anything but fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I read the books and the wiki doesn't have enough information so apologies if I made someone ooc (+ please tell me if I did)

Damen had no idea how he’d gone for the whole semester without truly noticing Laurent. It was nice to put a name to the face at last. Damen had never paid attention to the person who always had the time slot before their hockey practices booked. But, now that he knew, it was hard not to feel stupid in hindsight. “ _ Are you lost _ ” Urg, Damen wanted to hit himself. Laurent probably knew his way around the rink better than he did. Laurent was the person that Damen would see out on the ice when he arrived early for his own practice. Laurent was the figure jumping and spinning, almost convincing Damen that defying gravity was in fact possible even as his physics knowledge told him that it wasn’t. His jacket would billow out behind him like a cape as he twisted and turned. Impressive torque paired with an impressive torso. 

And those  _ legs _ . God _ damn. _

Damen adjusted his backpack and strode into the building that housed the ice rink. His feet carried him down the hallway that he walked down almost daily for the years that he’d been at university. It was almost muscle memory at this point. Surely, Damen felt, he could close his eyes and he could still find his way. Damen knew the lockers lining the walls, each doorway that he passed, each sign on the wall. 

He stopped at the doors to the ice rink. 

He was doing nothing wrong, Damen reminded himself. Everyone at the university was allowed access to the rink during regular hours. The rink was his home as well. It was just a coincidence, he decided, that he wanted to study at the same time as Laurent usually practiced. The rink was the place where Damen was most comfortable, after all. It would make sense, then, that he would choose to be there that day. The cool air and long benches… the rink, usually devoid of people, would be a lovely place to study during the midterm season, when the libraries were packed with sleep-deprived students and the nauseous hum of anxiety. 

He pushed open the doors and strode in, heading for the long wooden benches that circled around the rink. 

He sat in one of the farthest rows, letting his backpack fall onto the bench beside him. Damen could hear sounds of blades scraping the ice. Hitches where a figure launched itself off the ice and light thuds when that same figure landed back onto it. Damen pulled out his laptop, notebook, and pencil case, situating them on either side of himself. Only then, did he look up at the rink. 

Laurent was there. 

Well, of course he was there. Damen had heard him practicing. Had seen flashes of long blond hair out of the corner of his eye when he was setting up. He had planned that study session knowing full well about how Laurent normally booked that time slot. But, that didn’t quite prepare him for actually  _ seeing _ Laurent in form-fitting pants and a tight tank top, his long blond hair tied back in a high ponytail. 

Laurent was so wrapped up in his music that he didn’t seem to notice Damen’s presence. Damen opened up the textbook pdf for one of his physics courses at random- he had work to do for all his courses, anyway- and got to work solving the practice equations he’d need for his tutorial. 

A couple of minutes later, Damen looked up from his calculations on friction and met Laurent’s blue eyes. He was in the middle of the rink looking up at Damen on the benches. For a second, the blond had stilled, eyes wide as he looked up at Damen. His lips were slightly parted, as if about to say something. From his place on the benches, Damen could appreciate the slight shine of his bottom lip, the strong cupid’s bow of his top lip. The moment passed in between two heartbeats. Laurent blinked and turned away elegantly on one blade, his nose in the air as he resumed his routine. His skating seemed… different. More purposeful, somehow. Each stride and turn deliberate in a way that Damen hadn’t noticed before. 

Damen liked this new style. 

He stayed, studying, until the end of Laurent’s booked time slot. Laurent gave him a puzzled look as he left the rink. Damen returned it with a smile, a smile that grew wider when Laurent furrowed his eyebrows but made no move to yell at Damen for any previous injustices. Being tolerated was better than being outright hated, after all.  Damen chanced a wink and outright grinned when Laurent ducked his head and strode out the exit. Damen could could have sworn that he saw a light dusting of pink across Laurent’s cheeks before the doors swung shut behind his back. 

Mission stage 1 accomplished. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do people call the chairs around the ice rink?? The bleachers?? Just “the chairs”?? The audience’s seats??? Is the ice rink building called the stadium?? English is my best language but I spend approximately 0% of my life thinking/talking about sports
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the lovely comments on this story so far <3 This fandom has been so lovely and supportive so far; it's been a lovely experience


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! Hurrah! And I bring another chapter!

He should have done more, Damen decided. He should have tried to strike up a conversation, maybe compliment Laurent on one of those tough spins. God, he must have looked so creepy… just sitting there and watching Laurent out of the corner of his eyes but making no move to do anything more. How _embarrassing_.

Damen sighed.

Nikandros, long-suffering, sighed as well.

“Which goddamn blond is it this time.”

Damen looked at him. “Is that how you talk to your friend and captain?”

“It’s how I talk to my best friend as his co-captain,” Nikandros muttered. “If I had a dollar for every blond you laid eyes on and then immediately fell in love with…”

Damen threw an eraser at him. Nikandros expertly dodged it.

“What happened to our _bond_ ?” Damen lamented, getting out of his chair and retrieving his eraser. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”

Nikandros rolled his eyes, “I _was_ on your side… about 3 blonds ago. Now, I’m just tired.”

Damen raised his eyebrow.

Nikandros narrowed his eyes, “Damen I swear to every god in this universe…”

“You’re Tired? Oh wow,” Damen teased, humour lighting up his eyes. “That’s such an interesting name! I can’t say I’ve heard of a name like _that_ before. Is it a cultural thing?”

Nikandros rolled up a lab book and hit Damen on the head with it.

“Hi, Tired,” Damen laughed, covering his head with his arms. “I’m Damen. I got this name on my birthday.”

Nikandros, long-suffering, pushed Damen off his chair. His captain continued to laugh as he sprawled out on the library’s floor.

They were getting weird looks from the other students.

It was just Damen’s luck, then, that Laurent walked by at that very moment. He was accompanied by the brunet who sometimes sat in the seats around the rink as Laurent practiced. Damen vaguely recalled that he’d seen the brunet at before. A memory of some themed party slotted itself into place, where the shorter boy was wearing pearls in his hair and the skimpiest tunic that Damen had ever seen. It might have been Halloween? He wasn’t sure. All Damen’s memories from that night were lightly blurred with alcohol.

Damen made eye contact with Laurent as he sat up. He leaned his weight onto one hand and waved with the other, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a smile.

Laurent looked at Damen with a confused expression on his face. His mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to say something. But, Laurent seemed to think better of it, turning and striding towards the elevators. The brunet tagging behind Laurent followed, giving Damen an appreciative once-over as their eyes met. Damen jokingly winked. He watched the brunet turn red and almost trip over an invisible bump in the carpet, righting himself just in time to scamper after Laurent.

Speaking of Laurent… Damen’s eyes strayed back to the retreating figure, his position on the ground giving him a _really_ nice view.

“I hate to see you go but I love to watch you leave,” Damen sighed under his breath. Nikandros was close enough to hear and he hit Damen again with the rolled-up lab book.

“NO, Damen. Bad Damen.” A hit landed on Damen’s curls with every word. “We don’t do that!! We have pity on our friends and go one semester without letting our dicks control our lives.”

“That dick can control my life all he wants,” Damen sighed.

“ **NO.** ”   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so proud of that ending ahaha


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the amazing readers who have commented or given a kudos to this fanfic! 
> 
> There will be some (1-2) niche puns in this chapter. For an explanation of the puns in this chapter, please check the end notes

The next time they met, it was also in the library. Damen, along with a huddle of other zombie-like students, had spilled out of the elevator when the doors opened to the 9th floor. He was sleep-deprived. He was exhausted. His backpack weighed something like 600 kilograms from the massive  _ expensive _ textbooks he’d shoved in there that morning and the straps were digging into his shoulders. They’d been digging into his shoulders since his second lecture, at 10am that morning. The library smelled like old books and coffee. Damen checked his watch. 9pm.  _ Urg _ . He yawned and rubbed his eyes, blearily looking around to find an empty desk. 

There were no empty desks.

Damen was too tired and exhausted and pained and  _ dead _ to even be surprised. He sighed and prepared to walk around the whole floor until he found a desk  _ somewhere.  _ There were usually a couple free near the back, by the water fountain. If worse came to worst, he could always head up to the 10th floor. Damen didn’t like the 10th floor as much as the 9th. There was a “no speaking” rule on that floor and he found the silence a bit unsettling, like he’d be kicked out for drinking water too loudly or turning a page with too much noise- something like that.

He spotted Laurent, sitting by himself at a huge desk. He’d spread his belongings all over the desk, and over all the chairs.Damen made up his mind.

Damen walked over. He moved Laurent’s jacket off the seat of one chair and set it on top of Laurent’s backpack. Laurent took one earbud out of his ear and raised a sardonic eyebrow at Damen.

“And what, exactly, do you think you’re doing?”

Damen shifted two textbooks and a lab book out of the way, creating a small, clear desk space in front of the chair. He sat down.

“This desk is for at least 4 people,” Damen said. “There are no other desks around. Would it kill you to share?”

“Maybe,” muttered Laurent. But, he put his earbud back into his ear and bent his head back down to work without shooing Damen away, so he counted that as a win. Damen smiled as he got out his things to study.

They studied in silence for an hour or so before Damen was pulled out of his zone by a tap on his shoulder.

“Wow. You really get into studying, huh? I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past minute, at least,” Laurent said. His one earbud was lying on the desk in front of him and Damen could just make out something classical playing from it.

“Hm? Yeah,” Damen said. He yawned and checked the time. “I always have a lot of work to do in not a lot of time. So when I study, I really try and  _ study,  _ y’know?”

Laurent nodded. His eyes swept over the table and then narrowed. “What’s your area of study, anyway? Your textbook selection makes no sense.”

“I’m doing a double major in engineering and architecture.”

Laurent blinked. “Are you actively  _ trying _ to kill yourself?”

Damen laughed. “I’ve always really enjoyed building things and whatnot and, when I got to university, I sort of went ‘ah, what the hell.’ It’s a lot of work but it’s really great. The engineering complements the architecture and vice versa.”

Laurent shook his head. “And captaining the hockey team on top of that, huh?”

Damen nodded. “Yup. Not a lot of time to study but it’s been really great so far and I would really hate to give any of it up. You learn to make it work. Plus, it’s not like you have it easy, either. Figure skating  _ and  _ med school? That’s gotta be pretty rough.”

“You remembered,” Laurent’s smile was bright and almost delighted before he schooled his expression back into stoic indifference.

“I find I tend to remember things that are yelled at me, especially if the person yelling is as pretty as you,” Damen grinned and added an exaggerated wink.

Laurent rolled his eyes but Damen definitely did not imagine the slight smile on his lips. “Hilarious. Maybe you can also moonlight as a comedian after this.”

“Hire me to come perform stand up at your graduation,” Damen laughed. “I’ll bring my best puns.”

Laurent laughed.

“I’d tell you a pun about a blunt pencil but there’s no point.”

“That was not a challenge!” Laurent laughed.

“What did one cell say to its sister cell when the sister cell stepped on its toe?” Damen grinned.

“Do I want to know?” Laurent raised an eyebrow. “Fine, tell me.”

“Mitosis.”

Laurent sighed. “That was… awful,” He said, but he was smiling. “Another.” Damen giggled helplessly.

“Isn’t it great?” Damen’s grin grew wider. He thought a little before continuing. “Ok. I can only think of one more anyway and I’m gonna preface this by saying that I’ve never used this one on an actual person before, so you can’t judge me. Okay?” 

“Alright,” Laurent said, amused. 

Damen finger-gunned at Laurent and leant back in his chair, deliberately lowering the pitch of his voice so that it was something like an octave lower. “Honey,” Damen grinned, quirking an eyebrow at Laurent, “I wish I was helicase because I’d  _ love _ to unzip your genes.” 

Laurent giggled, tried to stop himself, failed, and then continued giggling. “That was  _ awful _ ,” he laughed. A strand of hair had come loose from his bun and was  _ just  _ brushing his neck. His cheeks were flushed red. His eyes were sparkling. 

Damen was in too deep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eagle-eyed readers may have noticed that I changed the total number of chapters! I did some planning and have a rough idea of how I want to split up the story, so I'm estimating about 8 chapters in total. Whether or not we'll _actually_ have 8 chapters is something I'll figure out as we go along haha
> 
> Damen totally went home and looked up biology-related puns in hopes of impressing Laurent after learning that Laurent was in med school. 100%. 
> 
> (If you’re still confused about the pun(s) after my explanations, comment the part that made you confused + why you’re confused and I’ll explain it better. I’m really trying to keep my explanations short, because I don’t want the end note to be disproportionate to the chapter)
> 
> Below are explanations of the puns (because I hate it when someone is left out of the joke):  
>  _“I’d tell you a pun about a blunt pencil but there’s no point.”_  
>  There’s no point on a blunt pencil. It's a play on words
> 
> _“What did one cell say to its sister cell when the sister cell stepped on its toe?”_  
>  “Mitosis”  
> “Mitosis” sounds like “my toe, sis”  
> Mitosis is a process of cell division. One parent cell copies its DNA and divides in 2. If everything goes right, this creates 2 identical daughter cells, each with the same DNA as the parent cell. The daughter cells are “sisters” to one another. 
> 
> _“Honey, I wish I was helicase because I’d love to unzip your genes.”_  
>  So, the process of DNA replication (copying existing DNA and making new, identical DNA) has a stage where the DNA is unzipped by a little thing called helicase.
> 
> If you’re confused, picture a zipper. Now picture unzipping the zipper, where the little thing you zip up and down takes 1 closed zipper into 2 sides of an open zipper as you pull it down. The little thing you pull does the same thing as the helicase, splitting the zipper into two halves. The DNA is just like that zipper. Initially, it’s 2 sides but “zipped” together so that it’s 1 long strand of DNA and the helicase unzips the DNA into 2 sides. 
> 
> Gene is a pun on “jean.” A gene is a bit of DNA. In the process of DNA replication, the helicase would “unzip” the gene as it splits the DNA into 2. 
> 
> Well, Damen. I’m sure you’d _love_ to unzip Laurent’s jeans ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> (The actual process of DNA replication is a clusterheck but this is all you need to know for the pun. My explanation will NOT get you a good mark in IB’s higher-level biology. Trust me.)

**Author's Note:**

> All my figure skating knowledge comes from google and Yuri on Ice while I possess no hockey knowledge so let me know if I mess up.


End file.
